


Plunder

by unniebee



Series: Pirate!verse [2]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Cheese, M/M, Mild Kink, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Purple Prose, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-01
Updated: 2014-07-01
Packaged: 2018-04-07 11:26:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4261611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unniebee/pseuds/unniebee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After their dramatic mountaintop confession, Joonmyun takes Yixing home.  Outtake from <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/4261521/chapters/9646194">The Doctor and the Pirate</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plunder

The trip back down the mountain is filled with giddy kisses, hand-holding, and less… _polite_ touches, but when they finally get back to the house, the mood suddenly becomes heavier, more anticipatory. There’s no one waiting at the door, fortunately, and while Joonmyun takes down the sign and brings in the chairs, Yixing puts their basket away and goes to fetch his salve. It’s homemade, his own recipe, and there was a time, before his practice took off, that selling such salves was his main source of income.

“Let’s take care of those burns before they get any worse,” he says, and Joonmyun looks up at him from where he’s re-settling the chairs around the dining table. Yixing sees Joon’s eyes drag down his body in a slow and quite obvious fashion, and is thankful that the low lamplight and the generally flushed state of his skin hide his blush. No one has _ever_ looked at him like that before.

“Should we not change?” Joonmyun asks. “And wash, possibly? You seem to be still as sandy as I.”

That is a good point, and Yixing should have thought of it. It’s possible he was thinking too much of rubbing salve into Joonmyun’s skin. “Ah. Yes.” He bites his lip. “Do be careful wiping yourself down, though. Your skin will be very sensitive.”

Joon’s smile is small and amused. “I _have_ been sunburnt before,” he points out gently. “I know how to care for it.”

This time Yixing’s flush must be deep enough to be obvious, and he ducks his head. “Right,” he says gruffly. “Get on with you, then.”

Dark eyes watch him for a moment, and Joon’s mouth opens slightly, like he’s about to say something and then thinks the better of it. Closing his mouth, he nods and disappears into his room to do as he was instructed, and Yixing does the same.

In lieu of drawing a time-consuming and labor-intensive full bath, Yixing takes a wet cloth to his skin, wiping away the sand. It’s the worst on his calves, which are both quite sandy and quite burnt, and the sand scrapes horribly as he wipes it away. He is as gentle as he can reasonably be, wincing at the sharp little pains, and when done he throws on clean drawers and a nightshirt and stops for a moment to regard himself in the mirror. 

What should he be expecting, tonight? Will Joonmyun ravish him, the way his kisses suggested, or will he be gentle, go slow? Yixing has no experience with lovemaking; a result of his chronic disinterest in women. And with Joon, he is eager to learn, but nervous, and worried he will make a fool of himself. Should he dress a bit better? Joon has seen everything, but tonight seems special, and he feels as though he should be making an extra effort. Perhaps he should do something about his hair, at least; the saltwater and sand has turned it into a fluffy, frizzy mess, quite unbecoming.

Strong, sun-heated arms wind around his waist, and Yixing jumps. Joonmyun’s face appears over his shoulder in the mirror. “Lost in contemplation, Doctor?” he asks, tongue in cheek and eyebrows raised. Yixing blushes but matches his smile. 

“I suppose so,” he murmurs, reminding himself that he need not put up any pretenses with Joonmyun. That, after all, is the best part - Joon has seen him at his absolute worst, and loves him anyway. “My apologies.” He instinctively goes to lay his arms over Joon’s, but feels the heat radiating from him before he makes contact and stops himself in time. “The burns,” he says. “We must see to those.”

He leads Joonmyun to the bed with a hand around his upper arm and has him sit, picking up the salve as he goes. Joon lets himself be lead with an amused expression, but the smile fades into something much darker when Yixing drops to his knees in front of him.

Yixing smooths the salve onto Joon’s burnt calves, wrapping his hands gently around the muscle and covering each inch by touch. He keeps his head down as he does so, well aware that his ears are bright red; he’s done this or something like it a hundred times for a hundred people but it’s never seemed so intimate before. He’s going slower than is absolutely necessary, sweeping higher than is absolutely necessary, a small indulgence that he allows himself because he is hopeful Joon will let him. 

Joonmyun is not a large man, but his strength is evident in every part of his body, muscled and firm. His history is evident as well, scars that Yixing now knows by heart marked on his skin, and for many of them he even knows their stories. He may have never been physically intimate with this man, but they have been emotionally intertwined for a while now, and it makes it both easier and harder to bear the anticipation of what he hopes is coming.

Yixing raises up from sitting back on his heels, lifting himself higher so that he can salve Joon’s forearms. Here, as well, he does not need to sweep his hands up past Joon’s elbows, but he does anyway, because Joon has gorgeous body structure and his musculature is textbook-perfect and he moans softly under his breath when Yixing digs his thumb in sweeping, massaging strokes into his bicep. The muscles are too tight; he really should stretch more. Yixing opens his mouth to say so, but when he glances up, the words die in his throat. Joonmyun’s eyes are heavy on his face, too dilated even for this dim light, and when he wets his lips with a flick of his tongue Yixing’s stomach jolts.

“Come here,” he says instead, and dips his fingers in the salve-pot once more. Joonmyun leans down, not breaking eye contact, and as Yixing’s hand slides behind his neck to the last section of burnt skin, he finds he can’t look away.

Joonmyun wraps his hands, slowly and deliberately, around Yixing’s biceps, and pulls him up and into a heated kiss. “You, sir,” he murmurs right against Yixing’s lips, “drive me to madness. Do you have any idea how difficult it has been to live in this house, beside you every day, and not press you into the nearest wall?”

_Oh._ Yixing breath catches painfully. “Has it?” he asks, rather dazedly. He can’t imagine someone like Joon being driven to distraction by him.

“ _Yes,_ ” Joon snarls softly, lips still pressed against his. Yixing feels the salve being tugged from his hand. “I watched you get healthier, brighter and stronger and more cheerful every day, and it took every _bit_ of my composure to not ravish you.” Strong fingers dipped in cold cream slide against the back of his neck, and Yixing sighs as cool relief spreads across his burnt skin.

“I apologize,” he murmurs, even though he isn’t really very sorry. 

Joonmyun slides forward, spreading his thighs to accommodate Yixing kneeling between them, and as Yixing lets his head drop forward to rest against Joon’s shoulder, Joon’s hands move down to salve his arms. “Don’t,” Joonmyun says, sounding amused. “It was in part my own cowardice that kept me from you until now. I couldn’t be certain you meant the words you’d said when ill, and you always were so perfectly genteel that I could not judge your attraction. Only in the past few weeks have I really begun to suspect it was not all in my own head, and it took me this long to work up the courage to do anything about it.” A chuckle. “And even then, you still beat me to it. You are, in many ways, a braver man than I.”

A tug on Yixing’s arms has him opening his eyes and looking up. Joonmyun stands, pulling him up as well, and guides Yixing down onto the bed. Their places switched, Joon drops to his knees to salve Yixing’s burnt calves.

Looking down upon the Captain’s dark head, bent in concentration, Yixing suddenly realizes he is flushed and heavy within his drawers, the anticipation beginning to make him harden. And Joonmyun is right there, inches away, not looking now but he _could_ be if he were only to raise his head. The realization makes his face flame as red-hot as his burnt skin, and he shifts a little, his all-too-proper upbringing convincing him he must hide this.

His movement makes Joon look up, and his handsome face, his dark eyes and wet lips and shaggy hair, his strong broad shoulders and thick, spread thighs, strike Yixing like a physical blow. Even in his dishevelment he looks to Yixing like the image of a pagan God, or an ancient hero, powerful and sexual. A small, uncontrolled sound falls from Yixing’s lips, and too late he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip to try and hold it back. Joonmyun stares for a long moment.

Slowly, Joon sets the salve aside. He rears up, bracing both his hands on Yixing’s thighs, high enough to make Yixing whimper at his touch. “Are you quite alright?” he asks, humor warring with an undertone of genuine concern.

“I’m a virgin,” Yixing blurts out quite suddenly. He immediately flushes his deepest yet, and Joonmyun blinks at him in surprise. “I...I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do.” Then he makes a face, because that’s not quite accurate. “Well, I mean, I know how it works, I am a doctor after all, but I don’t really know how to...to... _act._ ”

The smile that spreads over Joonmyun’s face is painfully fond. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he purrs, and the grip on Yixing’s thighs slides higher still, until warm hands are cupping his hipbones. Yixing whines unconsciously - he has never, _ever_ been touched that way. “You don’t need to impress me, Xing,” he breathes, leaning up further to press the lightest of kisses to Yixing’s cheek. Yixing’s heart has gone arrhythmic. “I could not possibly have a higher estimation of you than I already do.” His smile turns wicked, then, so wicked that Yixing finds he cannot draw breath. “And after you have taught me so much, I look forward to teaching you about this.”

His right hand slides down the inside of Yixing’s thigh and finds his cock. It’s a bare touch, polite and almost tentative, but Yixing’s head falls back with a low groan because it is so. _good._

“Oh,” Joonmyun breathes, pressing more firmly, working the heel of his hand up against Yixing’s shaft in slow circles. A long, low noise crawls up and out of Yixing’s throat. “Oh, this is going to be _fun._ ”

“ _Joonmyun,_ ” Yixing sighs, tipping his head back down and opening his eyes. He probably looks a mess but the way Joon drinks in his features makes him feel like a vision himself.

Rising to his feet, Joonmyun pushes at Yixing’s shoulders, crawling up onto the bed and right over Yixing’s lap. He bears Yixing down to the mattress underneath him, laying him out with sure hands, and the sheets feel scratchy and awful on Yixing’s burnt skin but he hardly cares because Joon is spread out over him and settling in like he means to be there a while. 

Fingers skip lightly over his forearms, like he was intending to touch but remembered the burns at the last second, and close instead around his upper arms, grip tightening. As on the mountaintop earlier that evening, the unspoken command in Joonmyun’s touch makes Yixing go limp and compliant, makes his body relax and his eyes flutter shut. It’s unconscious, it’s instinctive, and it comes entirely from Yixing’s total, complete trust that Joon would _never_ hurt him.

“Gorgeous,” Joon murmurs. “Look at you. So beautiful, so responsive. I am unfathomably lucky.”

Yixing thinks he must be touched in the head to think so, but the compliment warms him from the inside so he does not protest. Instead, he opens his eyes, lifting his hands to toy with the hem of Joon’s loose shirt.

“May I see you?” he asks, the words polite but the tone breathless and pleading. 

Joonmyun smiles at him, bright and full of humor. “You’ve seen all there is to see, and then some,” he points out, but sits up and obligingly tugs his shirt off over his head.

“Not like this,” Yixing points out, his hands lifting to frame Joon’s tight waist. “I have attempted to remain professional. I have not allowed myself to _look_ , not really.” He’s looking now, at milky-pale skin set off by the angry red burn of his lower arms and the slight tan of his upper, at sleek curves of muscle and prominent bones, at dusky pink nipples and the faint trail of hair leading into his trousers. And - oh. Yixing is not the only one beginning to harden - Joon’s lap is filled with a firm bulge that has Yixing suddenly itching to touch.

He feels like he should ask, but he can’t make himself say the words, having never referred to a penis out loud in anything less than a professional context. Instead, he lets his hands slowly slide, giving Joonmyun ample time in which to stop him or move his hands elsewhere before he reaches his goal.

His fingers wrap gently around Joon’s shaft, and Joonmyun’s eyelids flutter a little, his intake of breath a tiny bit too sharp. But he stays still, and, curious, Yixing measures Joonmyun in his hand, his length and girth, his weight and hardness. It is in no way the largest penis Yixing has encountered, but large enough, probably a little more than Yixing himself when fully erect. It’s certainly enough to make his heart pound and his stomach churn in apprehensive excitement, because he wants that cock inside him and is, at the same time, terrified of the notion.

Calloused fingers trail down his cheekbone to cup his jawline. “Are you sure you’re alright?” Joonmyun asks again. “You look a bit like a cornered rabbit.”

Yixing meets his eyes and smiles. “Just imagining you inside me,” he says truthfully, and the reaction he gets is priceless. Joonmyun’s eyes widen almost comically, and he flushes with sudden arousal, a rush of blood making his cock jump noticeably in Yixing’s hand.

“Fuck,” Joonmyun breathes. “ _Yixing._ ” He bends, intertwining his fingers with Yixing’s other hand, and presses his hand down against the mattress as he presses their lips together. The position forces Yixing’s back to arch, and his grip is strong enough that Yixing can’t move, and for some reason, that alone makes him sob softly with arousal, moaning against Joon’s lips as he feels himself fully harden against Joon’s thigh. His first hand is trapped between their bodies, and Joon’s hips shift, rutting his own rapidly hardening cock against it.

“Joon,” Yixing groans. “Joon, _please._ ”

“Nnnggghhh,” Joon moans in return, breath stuttering. “X-Xing. What do you want, my darling?”

A sweet endearment like that should in _no way_ make Yixing want to come in his drawers, but it does. “I...I don’t know,” he pants, as Joonmyun lays sharp, toothy kisses up his neck, in the front where it isn’t burnt. “Anything. _Everything._ Whatever you want, I just want you.”

Joon reaches between them and pulls Yixing’s other hand out of the way, pressing it to the mattress next to his head in mirror opposition of the other. With it removed, he shifts his hips until they are perfectly aligned, and white-hot pleasure unlike anything Yixing has ever experienced lances up his spine. He cries out and arches, but Joon keeps him pinned to the bed, and it should feel odd, _wrong_ to be held down like this, but somehow it makes him feel _safe_. Joon will take care of him, Yixing is certain - he always has.

“There are a hundred thousand things I would like to do to you,” Joon growls softly in his ear, his hips pumping in a steady, slow rhythm. “I have dreamed them all, night after night, with one hand in my trousers and the other in my mouth so you wouldn’t hear.” Oh Lord, the _image_. Yixing whimpers and rolls his hips up helplessly. “But you tell me you are virgin,” he continues, “and so I think we will keep it simple, tonight. May I fuck you, Yixing?”

“ _Please,_ ” Yixing sobs, sounding desperate and broken even in his own ears and far beyond caring. “Oh, Joonmyun, yes _please._ ”

Joonmyun shudders against him, arousal briefly taking over his entire body. “Fuck, Xing, I am a bloody fool,” he murmurs. “A coward and a fool. I should have approached you weeks ago. I have wasted precious time in my timidity.” He digs his teeth gently into Yixing’s jaw, pulling back almost immediately to soothe the bite with a kiss. “No more. You are _mine_ tonight.”

It’s Yixing’s turn to shudder with arousal. “I have always been yours,” he admits. “I will _forever_ be yours.”

“Mmmm.” Joon shifts so that he is kneeling between Yixing’s legs rather than astride them. “Tell me, Doctor,” he purrs. “That salve, is it safe for internal use?”

Yixing blinks. Stops. Thinks. Realizes what Joon intends, and thinks some more. “It’s mostly coconut oil and aloe,” he muses aloud. “Yes, it should be.”

Joon’s grin is predatory. “That is what I wish to hear,” he murmurs. “You, sir, are wearing far too many clothes for this heat.”

That brings a smile to Yixing’s face, because he is as undressed as he ever gets. “If you say so,” he acquiesces. Joon pulls back and reaches for his shirt hem, and once the shirt is gone both his drawers and Joon’s trousers are not far behind. Joonmyun settles over him once more, and it is a testament to how much they have been through that Yixing feels not one tiny bit embarrassed at their nudity. And even if he had, that would have flown out the window and into the sultry Caribbean night when Joon’s body suddenly covers him, so very much heated skin against his own. Yixing buries his face in Joon’s neck and grips his sides and just _feels._

Perhaps sensing that the newness of this is overwhelming him, Joonmyun stays still for a moment, cradling Yixing’s head with one hand. Yixing holds him and tries not to shudder, tries to get his body and his emotions back under control. It takes a moment, but he manages, and Joon is patient.

“Alright,” Yixing finally murmurs. “I’m alright. Oh, _Joon._ ”

A soft chuckle. “So sensitive, Yixing,” Joonmyun murmurs. “I hope this won’t be too much for you.”

Yixing’s own chuckle is strained. “My apologies,” he says, pulling back a little to look at his friend’s face. (Are they lovers, now? Perhaps not just yet. _Friends_ is safer.) “Don’t concern yourself overmuch with that. I’ll manage.” He smiles, and Joon’s returned smile is lovingly fond and makes his heart leap in all sorts of medically impossible ways. “Please, Joon. I am in your hands.”

Joonmyun shakes his head in wonder. “I will do my best,” he vows, and Yixing smiles because he suspects Joon never does anything less.

Then Joonmyun sits back, kneeling between Yixing’s thighs, and coats his fingers in salve.

The first touch is shockingly cold, and Yixing jumps. Joonmyun’s free hand lands at the base of his abdomen, holding his hips gently to the bed, and the touch soothes Yixing and prompts him to take a deep breath. “Bend your knees,” Joonmyun murmurs, and Yixing obeys, instantly and unthinkingly, planting his feet on the bed with his thighs spread. Joon drops a sweet kiss on the inside of one knee and keeps his hand pressed to Yixing’s stomach as he pushes one finger slowly inside Yixing’s body.

Yixing’s head falls back against the pillows, and he purses his lips to let out a long, controlled breath. This part hurts, of course. It isn’t really what the body is meant to do, and he is well aware of that. He knows, as well, what he needs to do, simply from his understanding of anatomy, and he keeps breathing and bears down and lets the rest of his body go still.

“Good,” Joon murmurs. Yixing lifts his head and looks down his body to see Joon watching him with dark, dark eyes. He moves his hand, gently at first, and Yixing makes a pathetic noise because such a little movement should not feel so massive.

Joonmyun’s pace settles into not fast, but not slow; within a few minutes the pain has faded and all that is left is the breathless sensation of being filled. “More?” Yixing asks, because he feels like he can move forward, but Joon would know better than he.

Rather than answering, Joon simply presses in a second finger. This time, Yixing cries out softly and arches, his body squirming outside of his control. Again, Joonmyun effortlessly holds him down, and again, Yixing is thankful for it. He does not like feeling uncontained, out of control; right now he is incapable of controlling himself so Joon’s control over him is reassuring.

The pressure increases until Yixing feels knuckles against his buttocks. Joon crooks his fingers, and it must be the barest of movements but Yixing jumps as if struck by lightning, his cry this time much louder. He’s too scrambled to decipher what has happened until Joon murmurs, “Found it,” but then of course he realizes.

He expects - he _wishes_ \- that Joon would keep touching that spot, but he doesn’t. He pulls out, ever so slow, and pushes back in. Long and deep strokes, but still so gentle, so careful, like he is afraid Yixing will break. And there is a part of Yixing that wants to be annoyed, that wants to say _stop treating me like glass_ , but the rest of him is too busy being totally overwhelmed by what he is already feeling to ask for more.

As if reading his mind, Joonmyun gives his hand a sharp little twist, and the friction has Yixing jumping practically out of his skin. It’s good though, _so_ good, and with a little gasp Yixing shifts his hips, pushing down against Joonmyun’s hand.

“Fuck,” Joonmyun whispers, and considering he’s been practically untouched thus far he sounds _quite_ affected. “I wish you could see yourself.”

Yixing snorts breathlessly. “I’d rather be looking at you in any case,” he points out. “I’m...I think I am ready for more.”

Joonmyun smiles down at him, shaking his head. “How you can make this simultaneously so clinical and so provocative is beyond my comprehension.” But he pulls out, just long enough to scoop up more salve - Yixing will have to remember not to use that particular pot for anything else now, just in case - and then pushes back in. It hurts, it _burns_ , and stars explode behind Yixing’s eyes. It’s possible that he screams, but if he does he doesn’t hear his own voice.

What he does hear is Joonmyun’s soothing shush, and the intrusion is still inside him but it is unmoving, and slowly, Yixing comes back down to earth, brought back to ground by Joon’s soft voice and strong grip. “Shhh, hush. You’re alright.” Blearily, he opens his eyes, to see Joon watching him with veiled concern.

“Sorry,” Yixing says automatically. “It’s...it’s passing.”

A shake of a dark, messy head. “You’re too tight,” he says, “too sensitive. You need to distract yourself. Here.” He picks up Yixing’s right hand and places it on his cock. “Touch yourself, the way you do when no one is around. Concentrate on that.”

It should embarrass him, it should _shame_ him, but instead the matter-of-fact command just buzzes pleasantly under Yixing’s skin. He bites his lip and does as he is told, wrapping his fingers around his cock and pulling, swift but gentle.

“Ah-ah,” Joonmyun admonishes. “Slow down. And do something about your other hand.” Abruptly, Yixing realizes his fingers are clenching so hard into the sheets that the worn cotton is beginning to rip. Unsure what to do, he gives Joon a pleading, questioning look. “I don’t know, sit on it or something,” Joon says, answering the unspoken question.

So Yixing lifts his hips and plants his hand underneath them, his own weight flattening his fingers and forcing them to relax. The position is a little constrictive, a little uncomfortable, and his cock jerks excitedly in his own hand. The tiny bit of strain in his shoulder, his wrist, is sufficient enough distraction that when Joon begins to shift his hand once more, he almost doesn’t need to jerk himself to keep from drowning in the sensation of being stretched. But Joonmyun told him to, so he does, keeping it slow and lazy, building his pleasure rather than rushing into it.

Eventually, his body has loosened, and Yixing is squirming with need, his whole body alight with a slow burn of desire. The pain has entirely faded and Yixing is done being careful.

"Joonmyun," he whimpers. "Joon, please, I _need_ you."

"Heaven help me," Joonmyun swears under his breath. "Alright, alright my darling. You need not beg. I'm here." His voice has gone rough as the bark of a palm tree. "Do you want me to follow your pace?"

Absolutely not, but he really does appreciate being asked. Joonmyun is quite the gentleman, even in this. "No, Joon," Yixing moans, his voice sounding wanton even in his own ears. "I want you to take me, _fuck me_ , make me your own -"

Strong fingers wrap around his wrists, digging into burnt skin, and Yixing cries out in anticipation as Joon makes a wordlessly broken sound. " _Yes,_ " he snarls, pushing Yixing's hands away, and the next thing Yixing knows his ankles are looped over Joon's broad shoulders and something far bigger than fingers is lining up against his entrance.

He stops right there, breathing heavily, and though Yixing tries to press down, to impale himself, in this position he cannot find the leverage, and he cannot _bear_ it. He whines in frustration, his hands scrabbling in the sheets, scratching at Joon's skin, clawing at his own. Joon’s cock is teasing at his rim and he's been hard as iron for _ages_ and if something doesn't happen soon he may simply _explode_.

"Mother of God, Xing," Joonmyun pants, grasping for his flailing hands. "Come - come _here_ \- Damnit, Zhang Yixing, _hold still!_ "

He manages to grab both of Yixing's wrists and wrap them up in one hand, pinning them down against his chest. The moment his hands are immobilized, Yixing calms slightly, coming to rest with wide eyes and labored breath. And the moment Yixing stops squirming, Joonmyun thrusts forward, sinking in to the hilt.

It is a good thing they are alone on this mountain, because otherwise Yixing’s cry of ecstasy surely would have roused the neighborhood.

Joonmyun has frozen again, his eyes screwed shut and a fine tremble in his shoulders. He’s holding himself up with one arm, the other still pinning Yixing’s wrists together, but the tremble seems to be coming from built-up need and not muscular strain. As Yixing’s initial cry fades into the old plaster walls, replaced by panting breaths and the incredible feeling of being stuffed full, Joon prys his eyes open. It appears to take monumental effort.

“Are...are you alright?” he asks, his voice shaking and breathless.

Yixing is even less able to form words at this point, so he does not try. Instead, he purposely pulls all his lower muscles taut, clamping down around Joon’s cock. Joon collapses against his raised thighs with the filthiest sound Yixing has ever experienced, his arm giving out entirely as his cock pulses greedily against Yixing’s tight walls. His weight presses Yixing’s knees to his chest, trapping his arms further and making it difficult to draw a complete breath. The stretch up his back and thighs borders on painful and Yixing is shocked to find the sparks of discomfort make his cock leak precome all over his belly.

He can’t move. He can’t _breathe_. His body aches and his ass aches and his cock aches and Yixing has never before felt more _alive_.

“Joon,” he moans. “Joon, please, _please_.” He’s not even certain what he’s asking for, anymore. He just _needs_.

Joonmyun makes a wordless, utterly broken sound, high-pitched and very unlike himself, but he gets his hand under him enough to brace his elbow by Yixing’s shoulder, enough to give himself space to move. His first thrust is shallow but sharp, and Yixing feels it up into the tips of his ears and all the way down to his toes.

“You...f-feel... _incredible_ ,” Joonmyun pants, pulling back further to snap forward harder. His third thrust is powerful enough to slide Yixing up the bed and Yixing whimpers rather pathetically, a tiny desperate noise that comes nowhere near the intensity this sensation deserves, but it’s all he can manage. “So much better than...than even my _wildest_ imaginings.”

Just the thought of Joonmyun fantasizing about him has Yixing moaning and jerking and clenching uncontrollably, and Joonmyun _snarls_ with a fierce possession that sets Yixing’s nerves ablaze and starts into a hard rhythm, each stroke deep and strong.

His jaw dropped in unbridled pleasure and a heat he can feel staining his cheeks, Yixing stares up at the man he’d loved for so long in wonder. Joonmyun is utterly beautiful, his perfect features twisted with need and his strong body quivering with strain. Yixing wants to touch him, but when he tries to tug his hands free he finds Joonmyun has no trouble holding both his arms in place with just one hand, and moreover he doesn’t look like he even intends to do it. His entire being is focused on fucking Yixing raw, singleminded in his purpose, and there is something so unbearably arousing about not being able to move that Yixing finds himself approaching orgasm without anything at all around his cock.

“ _Joonmyun,_ ” he sobs, and there are actual tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. Distantly, his medical background diagnoses the issue - he’s so overwhelmed with sensation that his body doesn't know what else to do but cry.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Joonmyun spits, fierce and harsh. He finally lets Yixing’s hands go and sits back just a little, wrapping his hands behind Yixing’s knees and shoving them down. It constricts Yixing’s diaphragm to the point where he gasps for breath, but when Joonmyun fucks into him, the new angle hits his prostate dead-on, and breathing becomes a moot point. It takes only a bare handful of fast, ardent thrusts before Yixing is catapulted over the edge, back arching to an extreme degree and vision going white as he comes untouched.

He does not hear Joonmyun call his name. He does not remember their positions changing. But when he comes back to himself, breathing is easier, and his legs are wrapped around Joon’s waist rather than up on his shoulders, and Joonmyun is laid out flat on top of him and fucking him with a desperate abandon that makes Yixing’s oversensitive body buzz all over. Feeling like he is floating even as he is being fucked, Yixing reaches up and digs his fingers into Joon’s sweaty hair, pressing a shaky kiss to his forehead.

Joonmyun gasps and goes stiff, his open mouth pressed against Yixing’s neck, and Yixing makes a small, amazed sound at the feeling of Joonmyun’s cock pumping come into him. When Joonmyun collapses, Yixing is ready, and catches him, bringing him down from the ecstasy with a peppering of soft kisses on his face. Strong hands clench into his shoulders, holding him close.

Silence flows in, filling the space that had been taken by gasps and moans and whispers of each other’s names. The Caribbean heat is stifling, and Yixing has semen on his stomach and more beginning to leak from his ass, and he is sweaty and burnt and tired and feels disgusting. 

He loves it.

Finally, Joonmyun separates from him, rolling off with a groan. It exposes Yixing’s nakedness to the air and makes him shiver.

“That,” Joonmyun declares, “was the most bloody amazing thing that has ever happened in the history of this sad little island.”

It is so ridiculous and somehow so _true_ and the relief of knowing Joon enjoyed it combines with the release of the humors in his body that comes with orgasm, and Yixing starts giggling uncontrollably. Joonmyun smacks him half-heartedly in the side and that just makes Yixing laugh harder, because he has never, _ever_ been so happy.

Then Joonmyun starts to chuckle as well, and Yixing rolls onto his side, burying his face in Joon’s shoulder. They laugh for quite an unreasonable amount of time.

Eventually, the laughter fades, and Yixing looks up to see that Joonmyun is already studying him. The remnants of his humor dance in his eyes and he is just unbearably, _exquisitely_ handsome.

“Come away with me,” Joon says suddenly. Yixing blinks at him, uncomprehending. “In July, when my crew comes back. I had asked you once, but it was a long time ago, and I know you don’t like to sail but please...If you stay, I must stay, and I fear it will wreck me. But I will not be separated from you again.”

Yixing cannot breathe. Joonmyun’s good humor fades as he sees the look on Yixing’s face. “I...my God, Yixing. I am a fool. Forget I said anything.” He tries on a smile; it looks like it pains him. “I’ll stay with you. Baekhyun can have the ship.”

“No,” Yixing says immediately, because the thought of Joonmyun grounding himself for Yixing’s sake makes an abscess open in his heart. “I will go with you, of course I will. Someone has to keep your boys out of trouble.”

And he is, in the back of his mind, a little terrified of the notion, because ships remind him of whips and chains and the fearful, monotonous beat of the drum, but the way Joonmyun’s entire being lights up gives him more than enough strength to face his fear. He smiles, and Joonmyun rolls over him, pinning him to the bed and smothering him in kisses.

“Truly, Yixing? Do you mean that?” he asks urgently, his eyes aglow.

“Of course.” He wraps his arms around Joonmyun’s back. “I said I was yours, did I not? I am a man of my word.” And the thought of leaving him now is completely unfathomable. There’s not really anything tying him to the island, anyway.

Overjoyed, Joonmyun crows his triumph, making Yixing laugh. Joon grins manically and presses their foreheads together. “I love you, Zhang Yixing.”

The words fill Yixing’s heart until he feels he could burst. “And I you,” he says in return. “ _Captain._ ”

Joonmyun’s kiss seals the deal, and with it, a chapter of Yixing’s life. But that’s quite alright - he thinks it’s high time to move on, to begin the next adventure.

He honestly cannot wait.


End file.
